oul,' Richard thought; 'but why did she come from the
King's tent?'

It was not a cheerful meeting, nor did the King show any desire to make
it better. When by roundabout and furtive ways Madame Alois at last
stood drooping by his chair, he began to talk to her in English, a
language unknown to Richard, though familiar enough, he saw, to his
father and brother. 'It seems to be his Grace's desire to make me
ridiculous,' he went on to say to himself: 'what a dead-level of grim
words! In English, it appears, you do not talk. You stab with the
tongue.' In truth, there was no conversation. The King or the Prince
spoke, and Madame Alois moistened her lips; she looked nowhere but at
the old tyrant, not at his eyes, but above them, at his forehead, and
with a trepitant gaze, like a watched hare's. 'The King has her in
thrall, soul and body,' Richard considered. Then his knee began to ache,
and he released it. 'Fair sire,' he began in his own tongue. Madame
Alois gave a start, and 'Ha, Richard,' says the King, 'art thou still
there, man?'

'Where else, my lord?' asked the son. The father looked at Alois.

'Deign to recognise in this baron, Madame,' he said, 'my son the Count
of Poictou. Let him salute, Madame, that which he has sought from so
far, and with such humility, pardieu; your white hand, Alois.' The
strange girl quivered, then put her hand out. Richard, kissing it, found
it horribly cold.

'Lady,' he said, 'I pray we may be better acquainted; but I must tell
you that I have no English. Let me hope that in this good land you may
recover your French.' He got no answer from the lady, but, by heaven, he
made his father angry.

'We hope, Richard, that you will teach Madame better things than that,'
sniffed the old man, nosing about for battle.

'I pray that I may teach her no worse, my lord,' replied the other. 'You
will perhaps allow that for a daughter of France the tongue may have its
uses.'

'As English, Count, for the son of England!' cried his father; 'or for
his wife, by the mass, if he is fit to have one.'

'Of that, sire, we must talk at your Grace's leisure,' said Richard
slowly. 'Jesus!' he asked himself, 'will he put me to a block of ice?
What is the matter with this woman?' The King put an end to his
questions by dismissing Madame Alois, breaking up the assembly, and
himself retiring. He was dreadfully fatigued, quite white and
breathless. Richard saw him follow the lady through the inner curtain,
and